


A Chess Piece With No Commander

by rozadiaz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Ron Weasley-centric, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozadiaz/pseuds/rozadiaz
Summary: A look into the mind of Ron Weasley. A boy fighting a battle with himself, while fighting a war for his people.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley & Weasley Family
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

The hallways of The Burrow were eerily silent on this sunny Sunday morning, despite the fact that she was inhabited by all nine Weasley’s plus Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Ron had roamed the house several times already, looking for someone or something to occupy his worried mind, but found nothing. His father was locked up in his shed, his mother knitting peacefully in the den, his eldest two brothers engulfed in a game of wizard’s chess, and Percy had been preparing document’s for his next day of work. They were all much too busy to be concerned with him. He had glanced outside his bedroom window earlier to find the remainder of his siblings far out in the fields of The Burrow playing a scrap game of two-on-two Quidditch with Harry while Hermione acted as referee from the sanction of the ground. All five of them, the people he considered to be his best friends, had completely forgotten about him.

Ron sighed as he looked back out his window again. He hated being forgotten, and though today was not the first time he felt isolated and alone in his home. It ate at him just as heavily as it did when he was a young child. Logically he knew if he asked for company someone would give it to him, but something always stopped him from it. Whether it was pride, or stubbornness, or the simple fear of rejection, Ron could never tell. The youngest Weasley son was somewhat used to the loneliness. For as long as he could remember, no one seemed to have time for him. Dad worked loads, Mum was busy with Ginny and the others, Bill had Charlie to hang out with, Percy had his books, and Fred and George of course always had each other. His whole life Ron had always been the odd man out. Even with Harry and Hermione he always felt a little cut out, like he meant less to the two of them. He didn’t know if it was true, but it hurt all the same.

He could think of nothing else to do, so he pulled out the tattered muggle comic books Charlie had given him for his seventh birthday and hoped that the company of ‘Spider-Man’ would be enough to ease his back-to-school anxiety. It wasn’t (it never was he wasn’t even sure why he tried), but he remained sat on his bed until he heard Percy’s delicate knock upon his door. 

“Come in.” Ron called, sitting up and running a hand though his messy hair as he threw the comic book on his bedside table.

“Hi Ronnie,” Percy started as he came through the door. “How was your morning?” 

The third eldest began to look mildly concerned, as he fully entered the room. Percy had always been good at reading Ron’s emotions. Ron plastered on his dopey grin in hopes of throwing him off his trail and told him it was fine. Percy squinted his eyes, but did not press further.

“Good, I was worried you were ill since you weren’t out with the others.” 

Ron shook his head, “‘M just a bit tired Perce, that’s all,” he lied. Saving the others from the fit Percy would have if he knew Ron had not been invited at all. 

“Is your leg still bothering you?” Percy asked, crossing the room and sitting next to Ron on the bed. 

“A bit,” Ron admitted, though the limp he had sported for most of the summer was gone now, there was an almost constant ache in his ankle where Padfoot had clamped down. “It’s not bad though, don’t worry.”

Percy chuckled softly, “I’ll quit worrying when you learn to stay out of trouble. Mum’s got lunch ready downstairs by the way, come down quick if you want something good.” 

Percy rose, ruffling Ron’s hair as he did so, and exited the room. As much as Ron hated to admit it, he’d miss having Percy around at Hogwarts this year. It was nice to have someone that would check in on him from time to time, even if Ron lied over half the time, it was nice. Ron knew all of his family cared for him, but they didn’t always show it. Percy’s protectiveness over him, no matter how fickle it was, was something Ron had always valued. 

By the time Ron had made it downstairs he had found that mum had prepared a stack of sandwiches for lunch, and all but the corned beef had been claimed already. He swallowed his disappointment quickly, and took a seat between Fred and Bill. His eldest brother ruffled his hair softly in greeting as he sat down and Ron mumbled a small ‘hi’ back at him. He pulled his seat in and reached for one of the horrid sandwiches. He ate in silence, eavesdropping on the conversations around him. Mum and Hermione discussed knitting patterns. Percy and his father whispered about a new work project. Bill, the twins and Harry chatted about quidditch, and Charlie was telling Ginny about his dragons. It seemed like there was no place where he truly fit in within the family.

Ron’s sulking was interrupted by a hard elbow to his arm from Fred.

“Any team’s better than those old Cannon’s.” Fred was telling Harry. 

“I like them.” Ron said quietly. 

“You only like them ‘cause that’s the team you chose when you were four. You liked their colour that’s all.” Bill replied, shaking his head with a smile. 

The twins and Harry laughed at this, and Ron’s ears seared red. He was thankful his hair had grown long enough to cover them. He had a feeling this thankfulness would only grow as the school year started. The isolation he felt at home was minuscule compared to what he felt at Hogwarts. His siblings had their own friends there, and Harry and Hermione had loads of other friends too. It was only Ron who seemed to have an issue with relationship building. He didn’t know if it was something he had done specifically, or if it was simply his personality but he was for the most part disliked by students throughout his year at Hogwarts. So, days where Hermione wanted to spend time with the girls and when Harry had Quidditch practice or some other thing to do (these events often overlapped), Ron was completely alone. 

It was one thing to feel alone at the Burrow, where it was still warm and safe. Where he could sit with his mum when he was really upset, and walk about the fields alone without fear. At Hogwarts however it was different, the castle walls were always icy cold, and wherever Ron seemed to go without the company of his brothers or friends vicious words would spew out of his classmates mouth without any provocation. Being there drained Ron emotionally, and with the additional stress of classes that he could never seem to keep up with he often felt like he was drowning. The mere thought of being back there made Ron’s throat dry up and his stomach churn. 

He finished his lunch nonetheless, scarfing down five sandwiches. He did his best to ignore the tinge of disgust he thought he saw on Hermione’s face and convinced himself the discomfort of a too-full belly would distract him from his anxiety. 

He had actually hoped to be left alone that afternoon, to sulk and wallow, but alas after lunch Fred and George recruited him for a game of Wizards Chess, Ron figured they had sensed his mood during lunch, though he wasn’t really complaining. They insisted that it was only fair that he play against them both at once since he was better than them. Ron won three games in a row regardless, and blushed heavily when Hermione eagerly complimented his skill for the game. 

“I’m not kidding Ron!” she continued, “It’s really impressive, chess takes a lot of brains to truly master.” 

“It’s not really,” Ron started, shaking his head. “Charlie’s way better than I am, he’s the one who taught me.” 

“Better than you when you were seven maybe!” Charlie said from across the living room, not looking up from his paper. 

Ron blushed harder, and decided to simply enjoy this moment of appreciation. He knew come tomorrow no one in the room would pay him any attention at all. 

“I could teach you if you want ‘Mione.” Ron offered, looking up at her from his place on the floor. Eager to pull the focus of the room away from him. 

Hermione’s eyes lit up as she nodded eagerly. She shifted herself in the armchair above him and threw her curls into a quick bun. Almost as for the first time Ron realized how beautiful Hermione was. He always knew she was pretty, in the back of his mind. Though here, now, with the golden light of afternoon hitting her cheekbones and the flame of passion lighting up her eyes, by god did she look stunning. Ron had seen her like this hundreds of times before, but never had it enamoured him like it did today. 

“Oh!” She clapped her hands together and rose from her chair quickly. Brushing her hands across Ron’s shoulder as he scurried to take Fred and George’s place across from him. “I’ve always hoped you’d offer! Wanted to learn for ages.”

“I never knew that,” Ron said blush returning to his cheeks, lighter this time. “All you had to do was ask, I would’ve taught you anytime.” 

He actually had always wanted to teach Hermione Wizard’s Chess, to share his passion with her, but he had always thought she thought it was ‘barbaric’ as she said in first year. She looked absolutely giddy to be learning it now though, beaming up at Ron as he explained the roles of each piece and which strategies he liked to use and when to use them. For the first time ever, Ron found himself nervous to be around Hermione, the same way he thought he’d feel if he spoke to any of those veela’s from the World Cup, (or perhaps even Viktor Krum, but he really didn’t want to think about that.) A few of her soft curls had fallen from her loose bun to frame her face gracefully, gorgeously and she looked up from the board to smile at him again. He absent-mindedly traced the scars on his ankle, courtesy of Sirius, and smiled back at her. 

He spent the entire afternoon with Hermione, laughing and teaching until mum summoned them for dinner. He felt lighter than he had all summer, no longer as worried about returning to Hogwarts, his leg somehow aching less. Perhaps this new school year really would be different he thought to himself, still unable to tear his eyes off Hermione from across the dinner table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this seems to be Molly-bashing, but it's not! Ron is just a super unreliable narrator and often doesn't understand situations he doesn't have a clear view of. Plus, he's known canonically to often think the worst, especially in situations that would stress him emotionally. So, just keep that in mind! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elder brothers worry, mother’s neglect to smother the children who perhaps need it most, Ron Weasley feels bad about both.

Ron awoke the next morning with Harry shaking his shoulder lightly, the echo of his mother’s frantic yelling in the kitchen had travelled up the stairs, muffled though by giggles from Hermione and Ginny and Fred and George’s loud boisterous laughter. 

“Gotta get up mate,” Harry said, sleep still thick in his voice. “Your mum says we’re gonna be late.”

Ron yawned loudly and stretched as he sat up. His leg seemed to be hurting more than usual this morning, he reached over to massage it lightly.

“She always says that, we never are.” He responded, rolling his eyes as he rolled out of bed.

The boys dressed hurriedly nonetheless and bounded down the stairs, followed by Bill who had offered to levitate their trunks down the stairs. Mum had shoved pieces of toast wrapped in paper towel into everyone’s hands and said they could eat in the cars. Ron never understood all the chaos that came about on September 1st every year, he found himself quite annoyed by it actually. Yet, he beamed at his mother as she handed him his toast all the same hoping that it would calm her down even by a fraction. She patted his cheek and smiled back up at him, before moving on to Harry and Ginny. She spent a good few minutes smothering both of them with her affection, and Ron’s heart sank a bit. A bitter mix of longing and jealousy swam through him. It was an awful reminder of a fact he already knew. He would always be the last son, the unwanted son, the useless son, least-loved by his mother even when adding children that weren’t even hers. Always last when there was so much to be compared to: brave Bill, adventurous Charlie, clever Percy, cunning Fred, ambitious George, and of course perfect Ginny, the long craved daughter who could never do any wrong. By adding the Boy Who Lived and the Brightest Witch of her Age to the mix, Ron’s disposability was all the more highlighted. 

His shoulders sank slightly and he stepped back to lean on Bill. His eldest brother wrapped an arm around him and ruffled his hair. 

“You okay Ronnie?” He muttered. 

“Leg hurts.” Ron mumbled back, it wasn’t a complete lie at least. The pain had only gotten worse throughout the morning. 

Bill hummed in sympathy and pulled Ron gently towards him, signaling that he could place more of his weight upon him. Suddenly Ron’s throat felt tight and the anxiety that had melted away last night fell back atop of him, now a thousand times heavier. Hermione, who was laughing at a joke Fred had made turned her head to look back at him. She furrowed her brows and gave him a look that he knew meant ‘we’ll talk about this later’, he forced a weak smile back at her. 

Mum, who had finally broken away from Harry to take a look at the clock was now hurriedly pushing everyone out the door. 

“Hurry up Ronald! We’ll be late!” She scolded, as she looked back at him. 

“Do you ne-“ Bill began. 

“‘M fine, it’ll go away soon.” Ron interrupted, pulling away from his brother and heading towards the door and past Mum. He crossed it, but paused and hid himself on the other side of the doorway when he heard Charlie begin to speak, he couldn’t quite make out his whispered words but the response to it was clear as day.

“He’s being dramatic! He’s fine.” His mother had shrieked. 

“He’s in pain Mum! He’s been limping again, I reckon that bloody infection never even healed.” Bill said, his tone a cooling calm for the anger Ron knew was embedded within his words. 

The infection had indeed been awful, Ron was bedridden for nearly the whole month of June, feverish with a swollen and paining ankle. He was thankful that Bill and Charlie had been home, at least one of the two of them were constantly at his bedside while the other members of his family made occasional appearances. He reckoned Bill was being a bit over-dramatic at the moment (Ron was _ sure  _ he hadn’t been limping again). Though, over-protective and over-dramatic were probably Bill’s most predominant traits and Ron appreciated it nonetheless. 

The arguing continued but Ron decided he had heard enough, he walked as quickly as his leg allowed him towards the waiting cars and pretended like he had not looked to see who was inside each. Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Percy were in one, and Fred and George in the other. Ron knew his mother would flock to the car that Ginny was travelling in. Though he’d normally opt for the car which Harry and Hermione had selected he was in  _ no  _ mood to speak to his mum at the moment. 

Fred and George greeted him in unison as he entered the magically expanded car and he grunted in response as he slid into the bench across from them.

“Everything alright Ronniekins?” Fred asked, using the nickname that was filled with mockery despite its affectionate origin. 

“Fine.” Ron responded, chucking a few pellets into Pig’s cage next to George. Oh how he hated that ruddy useless little bird. 

George had opened his mouth to speak, but was distracted by the ferocity etched on both Bill and Charlie’s faces as they entered the car. Neither man said anything, but like any Weasley they wore their hearts on their sleeves, leaving their emotions always evident on their faces.

George cleared his throat, and clearly decided on a new sentence to slip through his already ajar mouth. 

“Suppose the ride to the station will be quick this year then?” 

“Not with muggle traffic, we’ve been instructed to leave most of the magical features of the car alone.” Bill answered tiredly. Ron immediately felt a sense of guilt, if he had kept his mouth shut there would’ve been no fighting at all. 

The rest of the ride to the station was mostly silent, Ron had ended up dozing off on Charlie’s shoulder during the ride and was woken by Fred shaking his knee upon their arrival. 

“We’re here Ron” He announced as Ron groggily rubbed his eyes. 

Ron moved to grab Pig from the bench across but George had beat him to it. 

“I’ll take him, don’t worry.” George said, both him and Fred were being uncharacteristically delicate. Ron had a feeling his older brothers had been discussing their worries about him on the way over, though he knew just as well that the care would soon dissipate from their minds. 

“Right. Err-Thanks” Ron responded, as Charlie guided him out of the car with a hand on his back. 

“You’ll write to me, right Ronnie?” Charlie said as the pair trailed back from the other three Weasley boys who were lugging away the trunks. 

“‘Course, always do.” 

“Good, anything you need you tell me alright?” Charlie continued. “For anything at all, Perce and Bill too. We worry you know.” 

Ron’s ears burned, and the ugly guilt deepened. 

“You don’t need to, promise. I’m fine Char.” 

“I know, but still. Freddie and George are there for you too. Any one of us, you’ve got a wide selection, just don’t bury stuff alright?” Charlie continued, he was on a bit of a nervous rant now. 

“I know Charlie.” Ron said, but he knew what his words really meant.  _ Come burden your brothers Ronnie, God knows our mother can’t be arsed to care. I guess we’ll take care of you, no one else wants you. We don’t want you. Useless, last, unwanted son.  _

They met with the rest of the Weasleys on the platform, and bid each other quick goodbyes. Both Charlie and Bill hugged him perhaps a bit too tightly, and his mother barely grazed his cheek after a short cold embrace. Percy ruffled his hair and promised to ‘see them all soon’ with a prideful glint in his eyes. Ron briefly wondered what that could mean, but had no time to press before Hermione grabbed his arm and dragged him to the train, whose whistle had begun to blow. 


End file.
